Chapter 12: Homecomings
I was completely at a loss as to how to handle this situation. I didn't want to tell my dad about what had happened, because then I would have to explain what the gossip was all about. I tried calling Luke all week. He avoided me at school and never returned a call. He thought I had told someone about that night, I was sure of that, but who did he think I would have told? I threw myself into homework and photography. I was weeks ahead on readings and assignments.
Dad had tried to talk to me.
"So," he had said looking up from the paper one morning. "Haven't seen much of Luke around lately. You two still seeing each other?"
"Mmm, no not really," I mumbled into my cereal.
"Hmm?"
"Oh, um, no I haven't seen him much since school started."
"Oh," he scrutinized my face for a minute, but sensed I didn't want to talk about it and went back to the paper.
Homecoming was rapidly approaching, and, while I wanted nothing to do with the game or the dance, I had been assigned to photograph both events for a special edition of the Minutemen Gazette.
The evening of the Homecoming football game was crisp, as autumn had settled into the Northeast. I shivered on the sidelines as the light wind cut through my sweater. We were losing, of course, but the crowd didn't seem to care. Most everyone was oblivious to the game. They were huddled in packs to transfer warmth between bodies, and in a futile attempt to hide the alcohol they were imbibing.
I finished the roll of film I had taken on the game and found a quiet area behind the concessions stand to change it. I mechanically wound the film until I felt it slacken. My fingers flipped the back of the camera open, popped out the film and loaded a new roll while my mind wandered.
Of course I had seen him. At the top of the stands, surrounded the rest of the track team. He looked warm in a flannel shirt and his letterman jacket. They were sharing a flask between them as well as the company of several girls I couldn't recognize from so far away. That was not the Luke I knew; shadow boxing with a friend, throwing his head back in uncontrolled laughter, bad mouthing the football team for their pathetic performance.
Even after so many weeks, it still hurt. I had thought we were so close. We had fallen, fast and hard, into a deep intimacy, but maybe it had been too fast. Maybe we had placed too much significance on such a young, fresh relationship.
Gathering my things and my thoughts I went back to the action. This roll would have to be of people. I walked along the front of the stands, looking up at the crowd. I shot a group of bookish girls who were pretending to know what was happening. I shot a group of math and science nerds who were eyeing the bookish girls. I shot three cheerleaders whispering about another cheerleader while she wasn't looking. I shot a couple girls tripping over some parents in a drunker stupor. I shot a boyfriend and girlfriend who were paying more attention to each other's lips than the game. I shot the band, trying to stay in tune. I shot someones rotund father returning to his seat with three hotdogs and a soda.
I wandered around the stands to see what was happening in the shadows, so to speak. I heard some giggling down below the stands where it was dark. Tempting fate at what I would find, I followed the outline of two people stumbling, clearly drunk, in the dark. When he tripped, the girl, who had big puffy hair, pushed the guy up against one of the pillars that held up the stands and started kissing him clumsily. He pushed her away at first, then, in drunken uncertainty, pulled her back in, arms moving up and down her back.
"Mmm-ey," he mumbled through the kiss.
"Mmm, Butch," I clearly heard her sigh.
My gasp must have been audible, because they immediately stopped and looked back in my direction. I didn't know if they could see me in this light.
"Hey, we've got company," the girl giggled. And it was the giggle that gave her away. I knew immediately it was Carrie. Why the hell was she still hanging around high school even after she had graduated?
The guy I now knew must be Luke stumbled towards me, shoulders forward, intent on knowing who else was down here. His alcohol-clouded eyes came into focus as he grabbed my arm angrily. "What do you think you're..." he stopped suddenly. He dropped my arm and stood back, taking a deep breath. "Rachel."
I could feel the heat rising to the surface of my skin as I stood there and stared at him. Carrie had sunk down against the pillar and continued to giggle annoyingly. "Come back Butchy, just ignore the little brat."
He seemed to no longer hear her as he stared at me. "Rachel," he said again, apparently unable to form any other words or phrases.
My feet were frozen. Tears were starting to prick the corners of my eyes and I knew that I had to get away, run far away. I willed my feet to move but they remained stuck to the ground.
He took a step closer and touched my arm, softly this time. "Rachel," he whispered.
That was it. My feet moved without instruction from my brain. "Rachel!" I heard him yell after me, then more giggling.
I managed to make it home, though I couldn't see through the tears. I staggered through the front door, tears streaming down my face. I slammed the door and ran up the stairs, avoiding Dad, who was watching TV in the living room.
"Rachel?" Dad called up the stairs, but I barely heard him with the pillow over my head.
